


Help from Above

by Cantatrice18



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV)
Genre: Carnivorous Carnival, Fix-It, Gen, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 15:32:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14475711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantatrice18/pseuds/Cantatrice18
Summary: In the dead of night the Quagmires descend from Hector's balloon, hoping to find their friends at Madame Lulu's carnival. Instead they discover a gruesome plot, an old acquaintance, and a way to get back at Olaf for their days of captivity. If all goes according to plan, the lions will remain unfed. But can they really escape Olaf's clutches for a second time?





	1. Chapter 1

The flier reached them in a gust of wind, an updraft from the dusty barren wasteland below them. Duncan caught it, glancing once at the picture of a veiled fortune teller before passing it to his sister. “What d’you reckon?” he asked quietly, keeping his voice low so that their faint-hearted captain couldn’t hear. 

Isadora frowned at the flier. “A carnival with a fortune teller, in the hinterlands? Rather suspicious, I’d say.”

“Maybe there’s some tie to the organization, VFD,” Duncan suggested. “It would certainly fit the pattern we read about, of them posting agents in remote places.”

“Maybe,” Isadora conceded. “It’s possible, too, that the Baudelaires have made it this far. No way to be sure, of course.”

They fell silent, both contemplating the fate of their three friends. “I think it’s worth a flyover, at least,” Duncan proposed. “If it looks promising we can convince Hector to stop.”

The pair glanced over at their captain, who stood proudly at the wheel of his homemade dirigible with all the firm resolve of Nelson before the battle of Trafalgar. It was hard to believe Hector was the same man who’d fainted at the mere thought of conflict just days before. “We have to be dead sure the Baudelaires are there before we make him stop,” Isadora decreed. “I’m not about to place Hector in any danger. We owe him too much.”

Duncan nodded. “Agreed. I wish we had the spyglass still. It would give us a better chance of spotting the Baudelaires from up here, without attracting notice.”

“I thought I saw one down below,” said Isadora, eyes lighting up as they always did at the thought of a challenge. “It might not be as good, but at least it’d be a start.”

She darted down the narrow stairs that led to the ships underbelly. Duncan sidled over to the rail, peering down at the flat scrubland stretching for miles below. In the distance something caught his eye and he frowned, squinting at it. It looked to be an animal of some kind, though a very large one. When Isadora reappeared, battered brass spyglass in hand, he pointed wordlessly in the animal’s direction. Isadora peered through the glass, then gasped. “What is it?” Duncan queried, trying to keep the nerves from his voice. His sister did not startle easily, yet her skin had gone pale. “Olaf?”

Isadora nodded. “Not only that. Lions.”

“Lions?” Duncan stammered in disbelief. “Not possible.” Yet when he took the spyglass from her and looked through it himself, he saw that she was right. Far below stood Olaf, and with him not one, but two enormous lions. Somehow, and Duncan truly couldn’t fathom how he’d managed it, Olaf had affixed collars and chains around the lions’ necks and was leading them to what appeared to be a horse trailer. “What in heaven’s name is he going to do with them?”

“Nothing good,” said Isadora darkly. “Perhaps he’s decided the Baudelaires aren’t worth keeping around any longer.”

“Even he wouldn’t be so sadistic as to feed them to lions,” Duncan protested.

Isadora said nothing. Both of them knew firsthand what their former captor was capable of, and the idea of a monster like Olaf in possession of a pair of ravenous beasts was not a comforting one. “We have to follow him,” Isadora said, soft voice emphatic. “He’s up to something, and that’s never good.”

Duncan nodded. “How are we going to convince Hector?”

“We won’t have to,” his sister replied. “Once it’s dark he’ll head to bed. It’s nearly sunset now. We’ll change course while he’s asleep.”

Sunset had never come so slowly, or so it seemed to the children. Hector remained at the wheel for what felt like an eternity, until at last he yawned. “Time to turn in, don’t you think?” he said brightly. “Got to sleep with the sun, and all.”

The children nodded. “We’ll be down in a minute,” Isadora said, smiling sweetly at their unofficial guardian. Duncan nodded, guilt pinching at him. He was a terrible liar, he knew it. Isadora had always been better at concealing her feelings, an odd trait for such a poetic girl. Still, it came in handy. All he had to do was keep his mouth shut, and her guileless face would be enough to convince anyone of her sincerity. It certainly worked on Hector, for the man smiled. “I’m so lucky to have you two children here to assist me. It would have been nearly impossible for this ship to stay aloft so long without you. Thank you, both of you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Duncan said stiffly. The pair watched as Hector descended the stairs, whistling cheerfully under his breath. “I hate lying to him,” Duncan whispered, once they were sure he was out of earshot.

“I know. I do too,” Isadora admitted. “But it’s for a good cause. Now, let’s turn this ship around and see what Olaf is up to.”

Duncan nodded, creeping to the ship’s wheel, careful not to step on any of the deck’s creaky boards. “Tell me what direction to fly in,” he instructed.

Isadora raised the spyglass, pointing it at the ground. Duncan could just make out the distant lights from the trailer as it trundled down the Hinterlands’ only road. “He’s headed south,” Isadora informed him. “Stay back, and keep the engines low.”

Duncan did as she commanded, and for a while they floated in silence hundreds of feet above the trailer. “Stop,” Isadora said at last. Duncan triggered the ship’s brakes and joined her at the rail. Far below he could see the outlines of half a dozen tents poking up. He drew the folded up flier from his pocket and spread it out, angling it so that the moonlight struck the red and black of the picture. “Looks like we’re headed to the circus after all.”


	2. Chapter 2

A quick note affixed to the ship’s wheel was all it took. Isadora let Duncan do the writing while she fetched the ship’s long ladder and carefully let it down over the side. “Let’s hope he reads it in the morning,” Duncan murmured as the two began to climb downwards. “Otherwise we might never get back up.”

Isadora didn’t answer. Her nerves tingled, every inch of her alive with the fear of capture combined with the exhilaration of finally doing something besides run. She was not a runner, not one to hide in a safe spot while others were in danger. The Baudelaires were more than school friends, they were a vital link to a shared legacy their parents hadn’t lived long enough to explain. 

The ladder ended several feet above the ground, and the children were forced to jump the rest of the way. Isadora stumbled upon landing, nearly crashing into her brother, who caught her by the arm to keep her upright. “Come on,” he hissed, pulling her into the shadow of a large tent. A short way away they could just make out the dancing light of a fire, and the sound of indistinct voices. Even at a distance they recognized Esme’s shrill tones. Duncan scowled in the direction of the villainess’s voice. “That awful hag.”

“Shh,” Isadora ordered, though her insides had clenched at the sound of their former captor’s voice. “Dare we get closer?”

“I don’t think we’ll need to,” her brother replied, and indeed footsteps were approaching, crunching with the unmistakable sound of high heels on dirt and gravel. Both children shrank back against the tent wall, knowing the shadows wouldn’t be enough to hide them. An idea struck Isadora just as Esme was nearly upon them. Clutching Duncan’s hand, she pulled him down, wriggling backwards through the thin gap between the tent pegs until her body lay safely hidden on the tent’s floor. They’d managed to hide with not a moment to spare, for Esme’s heels came into sight a second later. Peering through the narrow gap that had been their saving grace, Isadora saw a pair of far more masculine shoes enter her field of vision. From above them, Esme spoke. “I’ve given the freaks their instructions. The two headed monstrosity put up some resistance, but the rest know what to do.”

“Do you really think the boss will let us go through with it?” her companion asked. From the sound of his voice, Isadora guessed the man to be the large bald henchman. “After all, he said he wanted a freak to be the sacrifice.”

“Madame Lulu is a freak,” Esme said bitterly. “A carnie charlatan with dangerous charms and far too much interest in my Olaf. Feeding her to the lions is just what she deserves.”

Isadora glanced at her brother, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Duncan’s face was grave, an expression she knew all too well. Setting her own feelings aside, she concentrated once more on the conversation just feet away. “—whether a push is needed,” Esme was saying. “I trust all of you to do the right thing, if it seems like the freaks have lost their courage.”

“I’ll tell the others,” her companion conceded. “She won’t escape.”

“She had better not,” Esme said, voice dangerous. “Those lions can’t feed themselves. Without Madame Lulu, another sacrifice must be found. With a bit of help, I’m sure Olaf can be convinced to rid himself of a less-than-satisfactory henchman. Good help is hard to come by these days, and I’ve noticed that several members of our company have been rather unhelpful lately.”

“We’ll make it happen,” the henchman replied hastily. “By noon tomorrow she’ll be lion fodder.”

“Excellent,” Esme purred. “Remind me, when it’s all over, to give you a pay raise.”

She stalked off, heels grinding against the dirt. Isadora heard the henchman tut regretfully before he, too, made his way out of sight. Rolling onto her side, Isadora met her brother’s eyes. “Fed to the lions?” she whispered.

“Not our problem,” Duncan said shortly, though his pale face told a different story. “We’re here for the Baudelaires, not for this ‘Madame Lulu’ person.”

“Speaking of whom, I think we might be in her tent,” Isadora said, looking around at the darkened room. The circular chamber held a wealth of books, as well as a neat bed draped with a red quilt. “She’s certainly a fan of reading,” Isadora commented. “Is that normal for a fortune teller?”

“Who knows?” Duncan answered. “Maybe she uses the books for research, in order to sound more authentic.”

“You don’t believe she’s a real fortune teller, then?”

“No such thing,” Duncan said flatly. “The future is a great unknown. If science can’t fathom it, some gypsy woman sure isn’t going to.”

Isadora ignored him, her eye on a familiar volume tucked into a corner of the book-strewn room. “Have a look at this,” she said, rising off the floor and crossing to the book. As she expected, the spine read “The Incomplete History of Secret Organizations.”

“Not possible,” Duncan said. “How on earth could it get here, of all places.”

“It’s our copy,” Isadora said breathlessly. “I recognize that stain on the front.”

“Someone’s coming,” Duncan hissed, looking around frantically. “Under the bed, quick.”

The children dove beneath the bed. From beneath the thick mattress they heard the distinctive rustle of long skirts, accompanied by the clicks of a beaded curtain parting. Isadora wriggled forward on her elbows until she could see out, careful to keep all of her body in shadow. Across from them, a woman with frizzy brown hair and layered skirts laden with sequins stood with her back to them, facing a mirror. Bangles around her wrists jangled as her hands moved to her neck. “Madame Lulu,” Duncan whispered. A moment later Isadora saw the off-the-shoulder sleeves of the woman’s blouse droop, and knew what was coming next. With graceful hands the woman began to strip, revealing a thin cotton shift and a corset tied tightly with a length of red ribbon. As the woman reached behind her to undo the corset laces, Isadora dropped her gaze, force-of-habit overtaking her curiosity. She noticed that Duncan, too, had turned away to give the woman before them some privacy, his face beet red as he affixed his eyes firmly on the oriental carpet beneath them. Isadora grinned, her sibling’s discomfort at the sight of any woman partially clothed reminding her, for the first time in a long while, that they were both still their parents’ children, polite and well brought up despite all the hardship they’d endured. She glanced back at Madame Lulu and froze, eyes widening. The fortuneteller had removed her wig, revealing long, sleek hair that tumbled in waves down her back. As she turned toward the bed Isadora couldn’t suppress a gasp. She reached beside her, tugging on her brother’s arm. “Look,” she hissed and, despite his embarrassment, Duncan obeyed. His jaw dropped in shock. Oblivious to her watchers, the woman approached the bed, sinking into it with a sigh of exhaustion. Long, agonizing minutes passed until the two triplets were certain that their unwitting companion had fallen asleep. Finally Isadora nodded, and the pair slunk from beneath the bed to stand gaping at the familiar woman stretched out before them. “Miss Caliban,” Duncan mouthed.

“What on earth is she doing here?” Isadora said in hushed tones once they’d backed into the farthest corner of the tent.

“Do you think she’d part of the organization?” Duncan asked, his eyes still trained on the sleeping librarian.

“Must be,” Isadora agreed. “Why else would she be disguised as a fortune teller, instead of minding the Prufrock Prep library?”

“She can’t have always been a Volunteer, though, or she’d have helped us earlier,” Duncan argued.

“Maybe she tried to help us, and couldn’t manage it,” Isadora suggested. “Olaf is wily, we both know that.”

Duncan gulped. “I just remembered . . . the lions.”

Isadora blanched. “We can’t let it happen. Regardless of why she’s here, she doesn’t deserve a fate like that.”

“No one does,” Duncan added. “But particularly not her. She was always so lovely, even when Vice-Principal Nero was awful to her.”

“Remember how she lent you that book on the history of electricity?” Isadora said. “And when she showed us how she’d organized all the shelves according to the reader’s interests?”

“And she called us triplets,” Duncan said, a note of triumph in his voice. “That alone is enough. I don’t care how dangerous it is, we’ve simply got to save her.”

“But how?” Isadora asked. 

Duncan’s brow furrowed the way it always did when he was pondering some difficult problem. “We’ll think of something.”


	3. Chapter 3

The moon peeked out from behind a bank of clouds as the children slunk to the big top tent. Duncan stopped, catching his sister’s arm as he heard the unmistakable sound of two large, hungry animals pacing quite nearby. “Careful,” he whispered. “We don’t know how well Olaf has managed to contain them.”

His worries were unfounded, as they discovered once they’d managed to slip through a gap in the tent walls. A large pit, ten feet deep at least, had been dug in the center of the ring, and atop it stretched a gangplank of the sort Duncan had only seen in illustrations of pirate ships. “Not very subtle, is he?” Isadora remarked.

Duncan shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away from the plank and the circling creatures below it. The lions, perhaps sensing their presence, had begun pacing around the perimeter of the pit, their sharp-toothed mouths tilted upward in anticipation of a meal. Images rose to the forefront of Duncan’s mind, unbidden and inescapable. He saw Miss Caliban alone on the narrow gangplank, a ghostly figure in gypsy garb. The wooden boards shuddered, then gave way, plunging the young woman down to where the ravenous beasts waited to devour her. He shuddered and tore his eyes away. “What are you thinking?” he asked his sister, desperate to block the echo of Miss Caliban’s scream from his overactive imagination.

Isadora, too, had focused in on the gangplank, but her expression was calculating. “We can’t do anything about the lions,” she murmured. “Olaf would know that someone had let them escape.”

“There’s also no guarantee that the lions wouldn’t just attack the first person they saw,” Duncan pointed out. “Much as I’d like to give Olaf a taste of his own medicine, I don’t think the lions are intelligent enough to single him out as their captor.”

“True,” Isadora agreed. “So if the lions remain, our only option is to forcibly remove Miss Caliban from their clutches.”

“I don’t think the two of us are realistically capable of fighting off a pair of lions,” Duncan protested. “I think our best bet is to get her away from Olaf’s crew before the danger begins.”

“She’s too visible, is the problem,” Isadora sighed. “That Madame Lulu disguise means her absence would be noticeable. Too noticeable.”

“They wants to grandstand,” Duncan mused aloud. “Olaf and Esme want to make a spectacle of her death.”

“Then let them,” Isadora murmured, her eyes alight with the fire of an idea. “Let Olaf set up his macabre display. Let him think he’s killed her.”

“You mean we should let Miss Caliban fall?” Duncan said incredulously. “How on earth are you planning on saving her once the lions have her?”

“She might fall, but the lions won’t have her,” Isadora insisted, pointing at the tent’s ceiling. A guide rope, one of many that held up the massive circular structure, dangled from the tent’s peaked roof. “What circus is complete without a trapeze?”

“You’re joking,” Duncan shook his head. “You think we can, what, swoop in like Tarzan rescuing Jane?”

“Not ‘we’, me,” Isadora clarified. “You and I both know we can work out the physics of it so that we aim properly. I’ll swoop down and grab her, while you cut the wires for the tent’s lights. That way no one will see where she and I land.”

“It’ll never work,” Duncan said bluntly. “For one thing, she’s heavier than you.”

“Not by much,” Isadora countered. “And anyway, I’ll have momentum on my side. We don’t have to get far, just past the edge of the pit.”

“And once you do? What then?”

Isadora frowned. “We have to get back to the balloon, somehow.”

“Olaf still has his car,” Duncan informed her. “I saw it when we were sneaking in. We might not be able to drive, but Miss Caliban certainly can.”

“And once the three of us reach the car we’ll be home free,” Isadora said excitedly. “Without their car they can’t chase us. We’ll be able to rejoin Hector no matter where he’s floated to, and bring Miss Caliban aboard with us. He won’t mind the extra passenger.”

“It’s dangerous and foolhardy,” said Duncan, unable to keep from grinning. “Some might even call it crazy.”

“So crazy it just might work,” Isadora replied in a sing-song voice, parodying the line they’d often heard in movies. “But it won’t work unless we get going,” she added, all business once more. “I’ll find ropes and some wood for the swing, and scope out the best place to jump from. You search for the main electrical circuits and figure out how to interrupt them without electrocuting yourself or anyone else.”

“Not even Olaf?” Duncan queried.

Isadora’s smile was devious. “If we snatch Miss Caliban out from under his nose, just when he thinks he’s won, we’ll have hurt him far worse than any jolt of electricity could. Just imagine his humiliation . . .”

“Oh, I’m imagining it,” Duncan said, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Come on. We’ve only got a few hours left before dawn.”


	4. Chapter 4

It was a dreadful spectacle. Crowds of bloodthirsty spectators gathered like the ancient Romans at the Coliseum, eagerly jostling for the best position to witness death firsthand. From her perch high above, Isadora could see several children in the audience. Her insides gave a shudder. What parent would be cruel enough to force a child to watch a murder? Noticing the way the children looked first at the lion pit, then at the row of freaks, Isadora changed her mind. Clearly these children were like the students at Prufrock Prep who’d blithely watched as first the Quagmires, then the Baudelaires, were singled out for humiliation and suffering. Cruelty started young, and the well-dressed children eating popcorn in the stands weren’t likely to suffer emotional scarring from the awful crime they’d paid fifty cents to witness. 

Isadora shifted her attention to Olaf, who had just announced the name of the lions’ victim. She frowned as a two-headed freak stumbled forward, stepping awkwardly onto the gangplank. This was not what they’d planned for. Esme had clearly said that Madame Lulu was to be the victim, not one of the circus freaks. The two-headed freak was far too large for her to swoop in and save, nearly the size of two grown people. Her jaw clenched as Miss Caliban walked out to join the freak at the end of the gangplank, her bangles shimmering in the light. None of this was going according to plan. The angle was all wrong now, the two-headed freak blocking the path of Isadora’s swing. Her heart sank as she saw Miss Caliban embrace the freak, bowing her head in an all-too-familiar gesture of sympathy. A lifetime ago, or so it seemed, the librarian had embraced the Quagmires in just such a way. Movement caught Isadora’s eye and she gasped. Miss Caliban had shoved the two-headed freak off the gangplank, the force of her body just enough to propel the freak away from the pit and onto safe ground. The freak, meanwhile, had split into two smaller, familiar figures. “Baudelaires,” Isadora whispered, her heart in her throat as she watched Klaus and his sister race out of the tent. Glancing back at the pit, she froze. Miss Caliban stood alone on the gangplank, defiant and bold as she faced down Olaf. “…I’m a Volunteer,” Isadora heard her say as she took a brass spyglass from inside her sash. Olaf seemed less than impressed, though his smile was as nasty as Isadora had ever seen it. Drawing a machete, he raised it high over the cord that tethered the gangplank in place. Knowing she had only once chance, Isadora leaned back on the rope swing she’d fashioned during the night and jumped.

The moment her feet left the narrow ledge she knew she’d timed the jump wrong. Olaf’s blade struck the cord with a dull thud, releasing the plank’s counterbalance and sending Miss Caliban toppling downwards. The plan had been to grab the librarian around the waist, the force of the swing’s parabola keeping both of them aloft long enough to escape the edges of the pit. Instead she saw Miss Caliban falling away from her, the untethered plank propelling the young woman in exactly the wrong direction. Unable to think, Isadora did the unthinkable: she let go of the swing. 

For an agonizing half second she was in freefall, a scrawny figure suspended in midair. Then her body connected with Miss Caliban’s and the force of their collision sent both ersatz gypsy and would-be savior flying in different directions. Isadora heard the sound of fabric striking hard packed earth, but could see nothing, for at that moment the tent had gone pitch black. Isadora knew the ground had to be approaching fast, knew that her momentum would not be enough to carry her to safety. Her legs collided with the pit wall and she yelled in pain, fingers scrabbling for any handhold on the dusty tent floor as she slid backwards toward the growling lions. Though taken aback by the sudden darkness, the beasts could still smell prey, and she could hear them getting closer, pawing at the pit floor in anticipation of a meal.

Delicate fingers grasped Isadora’s wrists, their grip surprisingly firm. A glowing brass spyglass appeared at the pit’s edge, clutched between a woman’s teeth. In a single motion Miss Caliban pulled Isadora out of the lion’s reach and into her arms. “Quick,” the woman whispered, removing the spyglass from her mouth and tucking it away once more. Taking Isadora’s hand, she led the girl through the pitch darkness and out into the blinding light of day. Isadora blinked, squinting in the sudden brightness. Behind them she could hear the hubbub of Olaf’s crew and the spectators flailing in the dark. Miss Caliban gasped, kneeling abruptly. “Oh Isadora, your leg.”

Isadora looked down. She was covered in earth from head to toe thanks to her unplanned collision with the pit wall, and her left knee had a long, jagged scrape that was bleeding slowly down her leg to stain her white sock. Somehow she’d managed to lose her left shoe as well. Miss Caliban had lost her many shawls, but still managed to whip a silk scarf out of her sash and wrap it around the wound. “It’s not bad,” Isadora protested, “it’s—“

“Isadora!” Duncan appeared, his face white with fear. “Thank goodness,” he said, hugging her fiercely. “I didn’t see where you fell, I thought that maybe you’d, you know,” he shuddered.

“Miss Caliban pulled me out,” Isadora told him, hugging him back. “The power outage was a blessing.”

“Not one that will last, I’m afraid,” said Miss Caliban quickly. “Olaf will be onto us any moment. Have you thought of a way out of here?”

“We have the balloon,” Duncan informed her. “We left it a mile or so off. If we take Olaf’s car then we can catch up to it wherever it’s drifted since.”

“No time to waste,” Miss Caliban said, taking both children by the hand and starting forward. Isadora tried to follow but stopped, a moan of pain escaping her lips. Now that she was aware of it, the cut on her knee burned and stung with every movement. She opened her mouth, not sure exactly what she was going to say, but was saved the trouble. Without hesitation, Miss Caliban lifted Isadora into her arms, balancing the girl’s head against her shoulder. “I’m stronger than I look,” she told an openmouthed Duncan. “Books are heavy, you know.”

A crash from inside the tent brought them all back to their senses. “This way,” Duncan hissed, and the three of them wove between tents until they reached the beat-up old car belonging to Olaf and his crew. Miss Caliban set Isadora down tenderly in the back seat, buckling her in. “Wait,” Isadora protested. “The Baudelaires. That was them in the tent with you, right?”

“The Baudelaires are here?” Duncan asked excitedly.

From the direction of the tent they heard a lion roar. “No time to explain,” Miss Caliban said hurriedly. “The lions will be after Isadora, now that she’s bleeding. We have to go.”

“And the Baudelaires?” Isadora winced as she pushed herself into a sitting position. “What about them?”

Miss Caliban bit her lip, clearly torn. “The Baudelaires are resourceful,” she said reluctantly. “They’ll stay safe until we find them again. And we will find them, Quagmires. I promise you that.”

She smiled at the triplets and, despite their peril, Isadora could feel her own lips curve upwards. Miss Caliban’s smile was infectious, and always had been. As the car pulled away she saw flames sprouting from the dilapidated roller coaster and the faded tents. A band around her heart squeezed like a vice as she thought of all the books they’d seen in Miss Caliban’s tent. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that books, while precious, were not always unique, and that Miss Caliban’s life was worth far more than a few dozen leather bound volumes. 

As the car trundled along the dusty road at five miles per hour above the speed limit, Isadora looked out the windows at the clear blue sky. “There,” she said,” pointing to their left where a spot of teal and brown could be seen far above. 

“How on earth are we supposed to contact him?” Duncan said bemusedly.

“Semaphore?” Miss Caliban suggested. “Morse code, perhaps?”

“Maybe we could write a big SOS on the ground for him to see,” Duncan offered. “Perhaps there’s some paint or something in the trunk.”

“Hold on.” Isadora bent over, peering through the gaps in the dilapidated back seat into the trunk. “I think I have our solution. Drive as close as you can get to the balloon, and we’ll see if this works.”

Miss Caliban obeyed, and several minutes later she’d parked the car in the shadow of the dirigible far above. With Duncan’s help, Isadora managed to yank the seats apart enough to reach into the trunk and pull out a large white megaphone. “Leftovers from Olaf’s days as Coach Genghis,” Isadora told the others. “We can call up to Hector with it.”

With Miss Caliban standing watch in case their presence attracted any unwanted attention from roaming lions, Duncan stood on top of the car. “Hector,” he called, voice booming through the megaphone. “Hector, it’s me and Isadora. Could you let us up, please?”

“Let me,” said Isadora, and Duncan handed her the megaphone. “Hector, I’m sorry we left without telling you. We had to do something important.”

“May I?” Miss Caliban asked politely, holding out her hand for the megaphone. Glancing at her brother, Isadora slowly passed the megaphone over.

Miss Caliban stood calmly beside the car, her eyes locked on the balloon above. “I beg your pardon, sir,” she said, her voice buoyed up the hundred feet to the balloon. “You don’t know me, but I know these children, and what they’ve achieved in just a few short hours away from your care has been remarkable. They are brave and ingenious, and they saved my life. Unfortunately, Isadora is hurt, so if you would be so kind as to consider letting her and her brother back onto your ship, I know they would be very grateful. Thank you.”

She lowered the megaphone, and the children watched in astonishment as the balloon descended, a ladder tumbling down over the side to hang several feet above their heads. “Sometimes it just helps to explain,” Miss Caliban said with a wink. “Right, Duncan. You go up first, and explain about Isadora.”

Duncan nodded, clambering monkey-like up the ladder. Isadora turned to Miss Caliban, brows knit with worry. “You are coming with us, aren’t you?”

Miss Caliban shook her head slowly. “I ought not to impose. Besides, someone has to go after Olaf and the Baudelaires.”

“We can go after them together,” Isadora insisted. Reaching out, she grabbed Miss Caliban’s long, embroidered sleeve. “Please don’t leave. We need you.”

“You’ll have your guardian,” Miss Caliban assured her. “He can take care of you better than I can.”

“Hardly,” Isadora said. “He’s wonderful, of course, but he faints at the mere mention of blood. I shudder to think what he’ll do when he sees this.” She tilted her head toward her injured knee, and Miss Caliban glanced at the clumsily wrapped scarf now stained red. “It isn’t just that, though,” Isadora continued, pulling the librarian closer. “I mean, Duncan could probably figure out first aid. But you’re special.” She blushed, staring down at the worn leather seat. “I don’t know how to say it. When we were at Prufrock, you were our only beacon of hope, our only friend till the Baudelaires came. Losing you would be as bad as losing them, in a way. Couldn’t you stay with us for a little while, at least?”

Miss Caliban knelt by the car and hugged Isadora, running a soft hand through the girl’s hair. “I’m honored,” she murmured, and Isadora could hear the emotion in her voice. “Truly, I am. If your guardian gives permission, of course I’ll stay.”

“Hold on,” Isadora said, breaking away from Miss Caliban’s embrace and leaning as far as she could out of the car. “Duncan!” she hollered, not bothering with the megaphone. “Tell Hector that Miss Caliban is coming too.” She heard his shout of agreement from above them and turned to smile at the woman next to her. “The thing about Hector is that even though he’s terribly shy, he loves to be a hero. All we have to do is tell him about the lions, and he’ll be thrilled to have you onboard and out of harm’s way. That is, if the idea of a lion pit doesn’t give him a heart attack.”

“Perhaps we ought to tone the story down, then,” Miss Caliban said, her eyes laughing even though her face remained serious. “After all, I’ve only read about piloting a dirigible, never actually done it. I’d hate to have to learn on the job.”

“Miss Caliban, dirigible pilot,” Isadora mused as the young woman helped her out of the car. “It has a certain ring to it.”

“I think at this point it would be sensible for you to call me Olivia,” Miss Caliban said as she led Isadora to the ladder. “You did save my life, after all.”

“You saved mine too,” Isadora protested. “So we’re even.”

“Ah, but you were only in peril because of me,” Olivia countered, smiling as she helped Isadora onto the ladder and stepped onto the lowest rung herself.

“Perhaps, but we only survived school because of you,” said Isadora, leaning carefully against Olivia to take weight off her injured leg. The ladder shuddered and rose slowly upward as Hector and Duncan began to reel them in. “Carmelita would have had us pickled or baked into a cake before too much longer.”

“Ugh, what a horrid girl,” Olivia exclaimed as she shielded Isadora from the wind. “Until you and your brother arrived, I’d nearly given up hope of finding any child with a passion for knowledge and learning. Then, when the Baudelaires enrolled as well . . .”

She broke off. Isadora glanced back and saw that Olivia wore a wistful faraway look. “We’ll find them,” Isadora murmured fervently. “And we’ll do it together.”

“Yes,” Olivia agreed. “Together.”


	5. Epilogue

The crowd gaped at the lion pit in stunned, horrified silence. Once the lights had come back on, all of them could see the results of Madame Lulu’s fatal descent. “She’s gone,” one man whispered, face green. “They’ve eaten every last bit of her.”

Down in the pit, the pair of lions tore at a battered silk scarf, tugging it to pieces between them. Beneath their massive paws, a single crushed shoe could be seen. The echo of a scream, high and agonized, still rang through the tent. Far above them, a rope dangled forlornly as though reaching down to the murdered woman in a vain attempt to save her from her fate. Slowly the crowd turned away, unable to bear the macabre sight any longer. Madame Lulu was gone, lost forever in the belly of the beasts.


End file.
